These Two Twins
by Romionie
Summary: I wrote this when I heard that George couldn't produce a patronus after Fred's death. Very moving and sad.


These Two Twins

Fred and George. They were more than inseparable and they knew it. They did absolutely everything together, Eat, Play, Work, Hurt. For over fifteen years, the two had not been out of each other's company for over an hour at a time. There was no 'Fred' and no 'George', just 'Fred and George'. They were part of each other, two halves of a whole. If one of them made a mistake then the other one would always be there, to cover for them and help them get back on top form. Their bond was stronger than anything in the range of platonic and above. No one could deny. Their light-hearted and jolly atmosphere could light up even the darkest moods and have they laughing uncontrollably in no time. Their range of talent was impressive, ranging from dry humour to whit beyond measure. If they hadn't been so intent on following their older brothers into Gryffindor then they probably would have been put into Ravenclaw. Occupying the same room as them was always a pleasure as their minds worked in sync. When one of them knew something then the other did too, they could formulate a fully fledged plan without words just by looking into each other's eyes. They hid no secrets from each other, they knew each other like the backs of their hands and that could be quite useful.

They already knew how they were going to grow up. Each would find the girl of his dreams. They would live in opposite houses, spending entire days at the other house, only coming home to sleep. They would grow a family and send them off to Hogwarts. Their business would thrive as they worked together, playing on each other's strengths and covering each other's weaknesses. Their life would have been so full of joy that it would surely make the record books.

That's why it was such a shock!

The date was fuzzy and pointless, just another stupid number in his pointless life. His mind all ways blurred when it got to this point. He had woken up after a particularly long night. He heaved himself up from his bed and shook away the grogginess in his head. He felt awful, that was either his true state or something that he felt he deserved afterwards. Despite the apparent pain and his state of drowsiness he made it to the bathroom. After a quick shower to soothe his aching muscles from some form of physical excursion that he must have done the day before. He got dressed and made himself presentable while the other twin followed suit. They walked downstairs together, strides falling at exactly the same time, so much so that if you had not have looked up and seen them you might think that only one person had entered the room. They made breakfast with the same haste and perfection that always befitted them at breakfast time (they may not have been good with mornings but breakfasts were a particular speciality.) One of them would always make the food, better if it was done without magic, and the other charmed all the cutlery to dance around the room before falling perfectly into place to accept the food. Both twins would finish their individual duties at precisely the same moment, every day, they never made a mistake when it came to knowing the other. This routine, this closeness to a single person, he would later crave for.

They ate in silence stuffing food down their throats like there was no tomorrow (how ironic). They both finished and cleaned the cutlery together. They stepped out of the door in unison, not talking or making any attempt to engage in conversation. It wasn't that there was anything between them, they usually spoke and laughed all of the way to their work place but they could speak volumes without uttering anything. No, there was something different about today. The walk seemed to take forever, no signs of life inhibited the area at this ungodly hour and it seemed to dampen their spirits. Rather that laugh they contemplated. Each one of them had been very deep into their own thoughts.

The tinkle of the shop door bell dragged them out of their semi-conscious state. Their thoughts had been the same although they had each come about them by themselves. Their normal attitude of cheer and liveliness was an easy one to slip back into as they gradually forgot about what had been going through their minds on the journey. They spent the whole day in the office or by the counter, collecting money or going about their daily routine. Being the head of the entire "Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes" was quite difficult. They had been going for about 5 years now and had already broken every record involving new businesses that they could find. Shops had sprung up in every full wizarding community around the richer half of the globe. So you can imagine how busy they were. The worry that had so easily entered their minds was now so easily forgotten. They packed up, ready to leave. Both were in different rooms but they made the decision simultaneously. They met each other by the door as they always would and they stepped out, side by side. They started to discuss their day, the highlights and the difficult customers, they spoke for about five minutes until the conversation subsided and they fell into a comfortable silence. The silence however gave the feelings from earlier a chance to invade their minds again. They were a lot more defined now and easy to understand. There was dread and worry, and one other. It was so powerful that it filled the gap between them as if they were conjoined but in control of separate bodies. It was so difficult to place. It felt familiar, like it had always been there, but at a lower or less intense level. Almost as if he had read something over and over and now it was finally starting to make sense. I know what it is now of course (a tear rolled down my cheek) and I pain constantly for its return.

We were only a few streets away from our humble home when it started; streams of tears flow down the old man's face and he is forced to recite this particular part to himself for about the thousandth time.

We heard the sound of a spell ripping through the air, zooming past their shoulders. That was not the sound of an innocent levitating spell or a cheering charm. It sounded like a deadly bludgeoning spell. The type that rip skin from bones and a head from off the shoulders. Their skills from the great battle that had for so long lied in wait were now fully active. A second spell tore through the air somewhere to the other side of the street from us. A scream like an army of merepeople out of the water ripped open her lungs as she hobbled along the street in agony. Her lower right leg was gone. Only the bone remained and a few strands of flesh hanging down as if trying to find something to grab onto. She wrenched her phone out of her bag and dialled 999 faster than I had ever seen someone move. The phone slammed against her ear as if every movement caused her as much pain as the cruciatus curse. "Please help...gunfire...please" that was all she could choke out before she fainted to the ground like a broken plank of wood. We had heard of guns before, on one of our dads many ramblings about muggle. From what we could make out it would not be difficult to mix up the pain caused by either. We heard her silently rasping in pain until she could no more and then she went still. We were mortified, we were in the presence of someone who had just shot to kill and if our predictions were correct then they would probably do it again. Many Death Eaters were left penniless and alone after the fall of Voldemort and that made them dangerous. They did not care about their own safety but they wanted to cause as much pain as they could. We desperately searched for somewhere to go, somewhere where the Death Eater would not follow.

When they could find nowhere they ran.

Straight towards the flat that they shared. Neither stopped to consult the other because they both knew what was going to happen. They charged as quickly as they could, every muscle in their body screamed at them but they continued anyway. Their fitness levels were identical so neither could overtake the other while neither would fall behind. There strides came at a steady and drastic pace, scrambled and desperate yet somehow consistent. Looking all around and they ran, they spotted the culprit, high up on the roof of the flats directly in front of them, the ones that they were running to. His wand was aimed right at them.

The shot took us both by surprise. I stared at it, flying towards me. Then something else happened that I did not expect, my twin acted without thinking. I searched my mind, knowing that I would find it in there somewhere. Then I found it, his emotions, screaming out from him. There was Rage and Anger and Pain, but most powerful, out of all the emotions was that one hard to reach feeling!

Then it hit me like a wave of realisation, an epiphany like none other.

It was love.

I knew what was happening but I didn't want to believe it, I let his emotions control me, wrap themselves around me and fill me with adrenaline. I sprinted with everything that I had but he was doing the same. The spell screamed silently down, mocking our very existence. It was now half way there and my twin was sprinting harder than he had ever run before. I couldn't stop him but I needed to.

The next few seconds seemed to take millennia for us. I saw the spell travelling, inching down towards me. Everything was painfully silent and eerie. I willed my body to move, to do anything to feel in control but the walls of my very existence were crumbling around me. My twin seemed to be trying to stop it but what is the point I thought. Death was coming literally at the pace of a speeding bullet and the more he tried the more pain he would feel if he couldn't. That is what I thought but it was obvious that he had other ideas. I glimpsed the determination in his mind that was beautifully reflected in his face. I stood there watching, soaking up the feelings of love that were radiation from him. I decided that if I was to die that I might as well die with the knowledge that I mean more to somebody than anything in the world. And that was it. I was ready to die.

My twin continued to surprise me, changing directions at the last second. I realised what he was doing but I was too late to do anything about it. He charged, the closer he got to me the further I fell into despair. At the last second he dived in front of me, slowly breaking away towards the spell that was sure to end his life. He collided with the spell at optimum speed and he was flung back onto me. The full and beautiful force of the spell left him with no bodily harm at all. It was as if him body had just, stopped. He fell into my arms and I just stood there, with my twin in my arms, for what seemed like forever. I stared at his face. A look of sheer determination mixed with utter content. He had died in an instant. A painless death. A hero's death. As I stared at his lifeless body my mind slowly slipped away into madness. The flashing lights that filled my peripheral vision caused me no alarm. My brain was dead but my body still worked. I could still feel pain. No tears fell, no screams were heard. I just closed his eyes and lay him down on the floor where he had left the world forever. Then I slowly walked away.

I ran. I ran for miles. I was never seen again. I fled the country, running from the truth and hoping that it never caught up with me. Every step that I took tore a chunk out of my heart, a portion of love straight from my soul, but I kept running. I ran until I had nothing left to give, nothing left to lose. I felt desolate and alone, pain slowly releasing itself to me in excruciating bursts, never relenting. His last moments were spent on me and I hate that. He got the easy way out, a brave and noble death that anyone would be proud of. But for what? A broken and painful existence that anyone would be relieved to escape. The more I think about his sacrifice the more I feel ashamed that I am living in the past. I have tried for love many times but none have succeeded, every time I just remember what I am missing. Every half spoken line that never gets finished. Every painful night and mournful morning. I can remember the room that we lived in. Every sparkle and spec. I spend hours just roaming that room in my head along with every single place that we went together. My last fifty years have been spent reliving the life I lost, twenty one years played over and over again. I could describe every accent, every person and every detail of everything that we ever did when we were alive.

I am now 71. I have a wife and two children. Technically I am living although I died when I was 21. I have given my new family all that I had left. I am living a masquerade. They deserve better, much more than me, everything that I could feel other than pain was ripped out of me in one fateful flick of the wrist. It is so hard to fall back into that once instinctive joyous emotion. My mind is constantly in two places, I am a madman, never focussed. I cannot hold a decent conversation, I am constantly reminded of that one spot on that one lane in the middle of nowhere. Where I used to have a life full of joy. Every year on the anniversary of his death I visit that spot and stare. I stand at the side of the road and gaze at where his body had been. This is the closest thing that I can feel to an emotion other than pain since I was twenty one. I feel distant traces of him mind, flickering. Determination, Contempt and Love. Love like I haven't felt in 50 years.

That is where I am going now. I am on a plane to England. My family don't know why I go but they have learnt not to ask. I am frail beyond my years, the lack of love has taken away my life energy. This is my one final journey. I have not told anyone and they will never know. I will fall at the floor where he had once lain. Though no one will know I will die contently, the closest to whole I have ever felt, before I am finally reunited with my dear brother. My family has done everything for me but I died at a young age. In my mind I died at 21.

10 years later:

An immaculate gravestone bore the words:

These two twins

They lived for the moment, loving life and living hard

Always a joy, never on their guard

Time spent with them was sacred

Love banishing all hatred

One fateful day, a tragedy occurred

A final scream by so few heard

One twin lays, the other cries

For the rest of both their lives

Never have they moved away

Just reliving the final day

Now that they have both moved on

The pain has only just begun.


End file.
